Limits of the Body

Jad and Robert talk to two Ironman competitors, Julie Moss and Wendy Ingraham to find out how they do what they do. Physiologist Dr. David Jones tells us how to trick the voice in your head that tells you you're exhausted. Then we follow two men, Patrick Autissier and Jure Robic, as they bike across the country as fast as they can in a crazy race called The Ride Across America. Producer Lulu Miller brings us their story and New York Times writer Daniel Coyle walks us through the process of physical and mental breakdown RAAM competitors face.

About the study where people on exercise machines were randomized to swig either a real energy drink or a "placebo" energy drink: fluid and glucose can be absorbed through the mucous membranes of the mouth. So the study subjects who were swigging an energy drink were really getting some fluid and glucose, even though they weren't swallowing it. I'm a midwife, and we use this with women in labor who are vomiting. They can hold juice or an energy drink in their mouth, and some fluid and glucose will be absorbed directly into the bloodstream through the mucous membranes.

I remember watching this Ironman as a pre-teen on TV with my mom. We were both horrified and screaming at the screen for someone to save that poor woman. Every time I see an Ironman event now, visions of Julie come to my head and I always wondered what happened to that unstoppable woman. It warms my heart to know that she's alive, well, funny and thriving.

As an exercise physiologist and running coach, I found this broadcast very interesting. I've always been fascinated by the science and limits of athletic performance, which is what drove me into this field.

Just a couple of days ago I had just listened to this podcast and used Julie Moss's story (and the video I found on YouTube) to encourage my daughter to continue in the 'race' she is running. She is going through a kind of mental marathon as she prepares for the university entrance exams here in Turkey. Thanks so much for this podcast!

I was a few weeks away from my first Half Marathon. Despite months of training I didn't think I would be able to finish. I headed out on a training run with my ipod with newly downloaded RadioLab podcasts. As I ran that day I listened to the "Limits" podcast for the first time. That podcast was a turning point for me. It made me realize that running was as much about mental endurance as it was physical training. I've run several Half Marathons since then. Thank you Radio Lab for this inspirational show.

I was caught up in the drama of Julie Moss' Ironman crawl to the finish. But I felt deprived of what Moss could have told us about how the event formed (or reformed) her life AFTER the competition. I felt the rest of the story was left out. Lack of time?

He pulls ahead with a lurch of his bike and suddenly the world is awash with failure and heartache. I travelled so far. I trained for so long. I worked so hard. And like a rabid bat, my hopes for redemption flutter away beyond my grasp. I consider taking him out in a spectacular climax to what would otherwise be a boring story.

1 meter to go

I often visualize what life would be like if we lived every minute of every day in the final passionate throws of a bike race sprint. Once you got over the fact that we would all be walking around with our tounges hanging out and wearing spandex, we would realize that our world suddenly became conquerable and was no longer a mystery. It is at this time that life finds new ways to exist. Like the infinitely split atom that will forever keep getting smaller, life can find new existence when pushed hard enough. Like the cold fusion power plant that I am, I chuck, hurl, roll, and muster even more energy and strength to frantically launch my body into an epileptic frenzy. I am moving so fast I appear to be a blur to the wall of onlookers I am about to eradicate. I look to my right and see myself. An exhausted vessel of emerging life, finally climaxing after many an hour of fore play

Epilogue

Standing on a podium, thats pretty cool. Having some fat guy drape a medal around your neck while you lift the flowers and shake your fists to the crowd in anger and love, oh that’s nice. But pushing yourself past a limit of pain that you thought never existed, and likely doesn’t exist anymore, is a gift and pleasure that can not be equalled by most anything on this planet. Bring on the pain.

I thought that sums it up for me ... from http://www.ourthursday.com/2011/03/23/challenge-blog-we-all-have-a-little-masochist-in-us/

I was listening to the this podcast when I was working out...very interesting timing!! I'm wildly out of shape and my body was screaming at10 minutes on the treadmill for me to stop. I couldn't very well do that if I was listening about a woman who crawled to the finish line!!I did wish i'd had some sport drink to swish though.

BTW-Radiolab is unbelievable, every time I listen to it I'm floored with what I learn.

The descriptions of the bicycle race sounded scarily familiar to June Havoc's descriptions of the dance marathons she participated in back in the 1930s. [Look up her autobiography, "Early Havoc" - a fascinating read]

Fantastic podcast, great insights.I finished my second, 24hr MTB race 2 months ago. I felt Julies pain when she was passed near the end.The first time I did a 24hr I stopped to stretch for 2mins every lap (about 35min laps)Finished very fatigued and sore, but uninjured. My goal was just to finish, and I finished second :)The second time (two months ago) was very different. It was a World Titles qualifier event, I wanted to push harder and it was a stronger field. I did the first 6hrs without stopping, had drinks and food passed to me on the go. Minimized my downtime when getting lights etc by swapping bikes. Average HR 8hrs in was over 150bpm, I was going too hard. 20hrs in was coming 3rd and feeling good, but struggling to eat and drink enough. With 2hrs to go I was passed, by one then later another. My last lap was insane, I struggled around walking half the way and crying out in pain each time i got back on the bike. Half way round the last lap we went past the transition and I had the opportunity to pull out by just walking 50 meters to my tent. I sobbed as I pushed on past choosing to suffer for another 4km. But I FINISHED and came 5th. That night the toxins in my blood from broken down muscle had me in a weird all over pain like nothing I had ever experienced. A week later I had surgery to remove large and deep areas of dead tissue from my buttocks on both sides. Long periods of sitting and pounding had cut off the circulation. Now 2 months later I'm back on the bike, for short and uncomfortable rides with my 7yr old son, who calls me "Dead arse Dad" ;) Going to be a slow recovery, not sure what the future holds for me. Part of me want to do endurance racing still, but maybe not 24hrs.I hope my wife doesn't see me looking at the RAAM website :)

This story reminded me of a great documentary called "Big River Man" -- he swims entire rivers, and this documents his way from the source to mouth of the Amazon. He experiences something very similar...

I crewed for a RAAM womens team in the 90's and was awed hourly. They were in peak shape physically but it's impossible to train for the mental strength it takes to complete the race. We had one gal suffer from dehydration from a dance with in the AZ desert and go down for a day. The others pulled even harder awaiting her teammates return. The riders slept for 3 hour shifts, support slept when we could. We passed by the solo riders who appeared to be asleep on the fly

The 24 Hour Solo Mountain Bike Racers are another one to check out. The bikers at the last world championship raced over 200 miles and climbed a total of over 30,000 feet on rugged rooted, rocky, dusty, grizzly infested trails - stopping for only moments at a time and getting no sleep. They are in the same category as these other endurance racers. They all amaze me.http://24wsc.com/

To Skipper from Palo Alto, CA: The Texas Water Safari is another such event. It is a 260 mile canoe/kayak race with a 100 hour time limit. I completed it solo in 2006 which was a hot, low-water year. I look back on it now and wonder how in the world I did it. I was 57 then and it was my second attempt, having failed in my first attempt 2 years earlier. Even though one feels TOTALLY spent, the body still finds a way to continue and finish.

I was wondering what happened to Julie Moss and the others after the event/race?Physically, were they hospitalized, treated in some way? What did they do to recover and was there any long term effects? The memory people suffered in a different way not brought on by their ambition or drive.Love the Lab

I was a little disappointed that the discussion on The Limits of Knowledge didn't include Thomas Kuhn's "The Structure of Scientific Revolutions".

That warm, fuzzy "Aha!" moment in the grand world of science is a (pardon me) paradigm shift. And sadly, those of us living in the old paradigm cannot even vaguely imagine the new paradigm until one creative mind can see it differently. (See examples: Galileo, Newton, Einstein)

I was moved when I heard Julie's story, but I actually cried when I saw the clip.

There are certain things we hear or see that we consider life-changing. Seldom do we really change. Yet, I do think seeing Julie crawl to the finish line could be one of the most cathartic scenes we could witness witness.

As an additional anecdote in this theme, I highly recommend Ken Kamler's TED talk on the terrible Mt. Everest disaster for which he was the primary doctor. Many people died, but one particular individual could very well have been featured in this Radiolab.

@Andrew I think you've on the right track, but suicide is not a goal for the people in these stories. They are somehow able to transcend or bypass the human survival instinct, so it is similar to the way we can commit suicide of our own volition, but the 'death' here is only temporary; even accidental (e.g. hallucination).